


Loving Isak

by Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, 5 Things, Basically people love Isak, But some serious stuff too, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mindless Fluff, Relationship Discussions, and he loves them back, fluff fluff fluff, nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9107509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells/pseuds/Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells
Summary: Five of the people who grow to love Isak Valtersen, and one who's loved him all along.





	

_Eskild_

 

When Eskild first dragged Isak back from the bar, he never anticipated that Isak would become a permanent fixture in his life. At first, Isak was just a vaguely familiar face sitting at the bar, one of the people Eva and Noora had mentioned. And then Isak tried to stand, fell flat on his face, and Eskild knew something was terribly wrong.

            “Hey, buddy,” said Eskild as he knelt beside Isak’s head. “You doing okay?”

            Isak opened one eye and frowned. “I know you?” he said, more a question than a statement.

            Eskild sighed. “I’m one of Noora’s flatmates.”

            “Oh, right.” Isak levered himself off the ground using one hand, and he squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. Eskild scooted several inches away, hopefully out of vomit range. “What are you doing here?” asked Isak, and his words slurred in his mouth.

            Eskild shot him a bemused glance. “This, my friend, is a gay bar. And I am gay.”

            Isak’s eyes widened comically. “I’m in a gay bar? Fuuuck.”

            “There are worse places to be.”

            “I just…I just need to be somewhere else right now, okay?” He pushed himself to his feet and swayed from side to side. Then he tried to walk again and staggered heavily, right into Eskild’s arms. His slick hair stuck to his scalp underneath his snapback, and he coughed as Eskild’s arm pressed against his chest. And Eskild knew his night of fun was drawing to a close just as it had begun.

            “Isak, right? Let’s get you home then. Can you tell me where you live?”

            “Not going home,” mumbled Isak.

            “And why’s that?” he asked.

            “My dad just left and my mom,” Isak gulped heavily. “My mom’s just crazy. Can’t be there anymore.” He looked up at Eskild with fervent, pleading eyes. “I can’t go back.”

            So Eskild made an executive decision. He slung his arm around Isak and guided him, step by careful step, out of the bar and into the fresh night air. The smell of something profoundly unpleasant filled his nostrils as they entered the back alley, and Isak’s face grew to be an alarming shade of green.

            “I’m calling us a taxi,” he said.

            “I can’t go back,” repeated Isak.

            “I know. I’m not bringing you back to your place. I’m bringing you back to mine.”

            “You are?” Isak’s eyes glowed in the soft streetlight, and there was, Eskil decided right then, a certain boyish, soft charm about him, about this boy who’d inextricably found himself in a gay bar and under the watchful eye of someone who cared. His eyes were this mercurial blue-gray mixture, and his blond curls draped gently across his forehead. He imagined they were soft.

            And then Isak vomited directly onto Eskild’s shoes, breaking the spell and ensuring a long night of intense misery for both of them

 

            The next morning, when Eskild greeted Isak with a glass of water, a plate of toast, and two tablets for advil for the inevitable hangover, Isak at least had the decency to appear ashamed of his previous night’s antics.

            “Thank you,” he muttered as he swallowed the pills in one gulp.

            Eskild sank onto a spot next to him on the bed. “You should be thanking God that I found you there, not someone else.”

            Isak flinched at the mention of God, and Eskild remembered something vaguely about a religious mother that Isak had sputtered out in between vomiting and insisting he couldn’t return. He chose his next words far more carefully. “You said you didn’t want to go home.”

            Isak shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “I can’t go back there.”

            “Well, you’re not staying in my bedroom, but if you need a place to crash, you can stick around.”

            “Do you have an extra bedroom?”

            “No, we don’t, but there’s always the basement,” he offered. “I could bring down some bedding.”

            Isak opened those wide, charming eyes of his again. “You could?”

            And somehow, after Noora left, Isak stuck.

 

 

            Isak wasn’t a replacement for Noora. Well, technically he was, in that he occupied the place where Noora once lived, but his presence did not replace his erstwhile friend. When Noora lived in their apartment, she meticulously cleaned the counters, the dishes and the bedding. She wore beautiful dresses and discussed makeup and music with him while they watched movies, and she was unfailingly kind, generous to a fault, and unerringly brilliant.

            Isak’s room smelled of old socks.

            When Eskild first encountered Even in the bathroom one morning, a lump of hope burgeoned in his throat. Maybe, just maybe, there would be a breakthrough. Now that Isak had figured out _something_ about his sexuality, maybe he would get the rest of his shit together.

            Then Isak said, “I’m not gay-gay, like, well, like you,” and Eskild realized how much a work in progress young Isak really was.

            But Isak apologized, and Eskild accepted, and Isak even turned to him for advice about his tangled disaster of a relationship with Even, who apparently was just another specimen of the “straight”-men-who-suck-dick variety, and Eskild, for all his anger, felt mostly pity for Isak. It was almost a rite of passage for a young gay man; first you fall for the straight best friend (and Eskild had seen Isak and Jonas enough to know they’d crossed that bridge a long time ago), then you fall for the man who will love you, but never enough to leave behind their girlfriend and their ticket into the world of heteronormativity. And then Even surprised him by doing exactly what he’d least expected—staying.

            And Even, as it turned out, wasn’t as opposed to pride as Isak was.

            “Hey, uh, Eskild?” said Even one morning over coffee.

            “Yes, yes, you can have some of these eggs. But your boyfriend can cook his own,” said Eskild, handing him a plate of scrambled eggs.

            “Uh, thanks, but that actually wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

            “Oh?” Eskild plopped himself into the seat across from Even at the table, and he speared a chunk of his own portion of eggs. “What is it then?”

            “Um, I was sort of wondering if you had any eyeliner? I don’t know if you would, and I’m sorry for presuming if you don’t, but I thought that, well, pride is coming up soon, and it might be fun, just once, to try something…different.”

            “Even,” he said slowly. “Are you telling me you want to wear makeup?”

            “I want to try it, just once,” said Even. “And I figured you would know what works for a guy, more than any of the girls might know, so…”

            “As it so happens, I do have a little something I save for special occasions,” he declared. He peered over at Even across the table. “I think this counts as a special occasion.” He stood up and slammed his hands on the table. “Let’s go.”

            “Now? But breakfast—

            “Now! Let’s go!”

            Half an hour later, Even emerged from Eskild’s room looking absolutely splendid. A little eyeliner, a little eyeshadow to compliment the lovely color of his eyes, and Even was practically a new man. By the time they’d finished, Isak had already woken up and was clattering around the kitchen, preparing his own breakfast.

            “Oh, Even, there you are,” said Isak, turning to face the two of them. “I was wondering if—oh!”

            Even raised his eyebrows, gauging Isak’s reaction carefully.

            “Are you—are you wearing makeup?”

            “Eskild lent me a little, helped me put it on. What do you think?”

            Isak gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbling up and down. “It, uh, it looks good.”

            “Yeah? You think?” Even took two steps toward Isak, leaving just a hair’s breadth of air between them. “You like it?”

            Isak’s eyes flickered between Even and Eskild, back and forth, before eventually settling somewhere along Even’s mouth. “Yeah, Even, I do,” he said softly.

            Even practically glowed with contentment as he bent down to press a gentle kiss to Isak’s lips. Isak responded by wrapping his arms around Even’s neck to pull him even closer and deepen their kiss.

            Eskild cleared his throat.

            “Uh, right,” said Even, breaking away just a little bit, leaving Isak still just centimeters apart. “Bedroom?”

            Isak yanked Even away wordlessly and slammed the door enthusiastically behind them, leaving Eskild alone with his chilled eggs. Inexplicably, a swell of pride bubbled up inside of his chest, both for the excellent makeup application and for Isak’s reaction. While he knew he couldn’t take complete credit for Isak’s gradual growth from wide-eyed naivete who blacked out drinking at gay bars to the man who loved his boyfriend, even with (or especially because of) the makeup, he didn’t think it was unreasonable to pat himself on the back.

            Isak’s room still smelled of socks (though the lavender air freshener helped), and he still wasn’t Noora, but, Eskild thought as he shoved his plate of eggs back into the microwave, he wasn’t all that bad.

            Not a replacement. But something good in its own right, nevertheless.

 

 

 

 

_Sana_

 

 

Isak arrived before her to class, and he stared intently at the screen of his laptop, entirely oblivious to the world around him. Even as her chair scraped backwards and her bag clunked against the tile surface of the floor, his eyes never strayed away from the screen.

“Hello, Isak,” Sana said pointedly.

Isak flickered his gaze over to Sana’s in surprise and he slammed his laptop shut. “Oh, Sana. Hi.”

She raised her eyebrows skyward. “Did I interrupt something?”

“What? Oh, no. No. It’s nothing. Really.” He smiled brightly.

“Okay,” she replied. “It’s nothing then.”

 

Class proceeded as normal. Their teacher droned on about the circulatory system, something about blood oxygenation in the lungs and the four chambers of the heart. Sana took notes diligently, but every so often, she glanced at the notebook of Isak next to hers. His pencil sat poised above the paper, but it rarely moved. His own gaze was directly somewhere towards the front of the room, but she would have bet Isak’s entire stash of weed that he was barely processing a word the teacher was saying.

“You know,” she said as they packed up their belongings after class, “you would do even better in class if you paid attention.”

He frowned, although the corners of his mouth tugged up in amusement. “I do fine in class.”

It was true. Though Sana never intended to sit next to Isak for the entire year in biology, a small, reluctant part of her had to admit that she’d lucked out in more ways than one. Importantly, she’d gained an actual friend out of Isak, who was now far more than the guy who’d helped to ruin Eva and Jonas’ relationship their first year or the guy with the boyfriend. But beyond that, Isak, when he paid attention, actually performed well in school. Especially in biology.

“For now,” she said. “But one bad test and poof, all that effort wasted.”

He laughed. “It’d take more than one bad test.”

“Fine then, two. And just because Easter break’s almost here, doesn’t mean you should forget to work the week before.” She slung her bag across her shoulder. “Any plans? Or are you and the crew just going to smoke the time away?”

Unexpectedly, Isak did not smile in return. He set his face in a closed, tight expression. “Uh, no. Not me at least.”

“No?”

“My mom, she’s uh, she’s quite religious. So Easter is important to her.”

Flashes of earlier conversations about belief, of acceptance of homosexuality in science and religion, flew across her mind. And something clicked in her brain. “Your mom, is she not accepting of you and Even? Is that why you don’t live with her?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, actually, Even and me aren’t really related. She’s fine with whole ‘gay’ thing.”

“Oh,” said Sana, and she reevaluated the situation. “Is it the church then?”

“No, no, it’s not…it’s not really related to religion. Not in the end.” He stood up abruptly. “I think I need to go. Even wanted to talk to me before our next class.”

With that, he scampered out of the classroom, weaving deftly in between a crowd of five other people who impeded his path. And Sana wondered.

 

“Hey, Eva,” said Sana after school that day. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” said Eva brightly. She tucked away her phone, though not before Sana glimpsed the name “Chris” across the screen. They walked across the school courtyard, meandering slowly towards the gate. “What’s up?”

“What’s the deal with Isak’s mom?”

Eva froze, and Sana knew she’d nailed something, at least, even if the specifics of the situation were still murky. After a moment, Eva cleared her throat harshly. “Why do you ask?” she asked cautiously.

“He mentioned her today in biology, and it seemed like he wasn’t too keen on spending time with her this weekend for Easter.”

Eva began walking again, stepping slowly across the concrete. “Well, she’s quite religious and Isak isn’t.”

            “He said it wasn’t about religion. Not really.”

            “Yeah, well, that’s sort of the case, I suppose. It’s complicated.”

            Sana rolled her eyes. “I’d gathered that. But what’s the deal?”

            Eva halted suddenly, and she turned to face Sana with a grimly serious expression on her face. “Look,” she said tightly, “It’s not really my place to share. But you two are friends, yeah? Maybe you could just ask him?”

            Sana huffed out a jet of air. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I will.”

 

            “Sana!” exclaimed Eskild as he opened the door. “The girl with the finest eyeliner in the city.”

            She rolled her eyes. “Hello, Eskild,” she said.

            “Noora isn’t around right now,” he informed her.

            “I’m actually here to see Isak,” she said.

            “Oh.” His eyebrows shot skyward. “Okay then, I guess. Come in.” He shuffled away from the door. “Isak!” he yelled. “Isak, your friend is here.”

            Isak replied something unintelligible from Sana’s position by the door, but Eskild just rolled his eyes and shouted back at Isak. “No, not Jonas. Sana.”

            Something crashed inside the apartment, and a loud thump echoed throughout the room. Eskild sighed a long-suffering sight and leaned against the wall. “Noora was never this much of a mess,” he informed Sana.

            Isak stumbled into kitchen, his hair tousled and his hoodie hung crookedly across his shoulders. His eyes skidded across Eskild before resting on Sana, where they squinted slightly in confusion.

            “Hi Sana,” he said. “Are you here for Noora, because she’s not here right now and—

            “No, I’m here for you,” she said quickly and nodded her head towards the kitchen table. “Do you mind if we sit?”

            Isak shrugged. “Sure. Eskild, could you give us a moment?”

            The two of them settled at the table in silence. Isak jumped slightly in his seat and flushed. “Did you want some tea or water? I should have offered when you first came in.”

            “No, no, don’t worry about it,” she said. “I just wanted to follow up on our conversation after class today.”

            He tapped his fingers absentmindedly across the table. “What about it?”

            “What’s going on with this weekend? I know you said it wasn’t about religion with your mom, but if she’s been giving you shit about anything regarding your sexuality and Christianity, I promise you I can counter anything she can throw at you.”

            “It’s like I told you earlier,” said Isak, “nothing religious, I promise.”

            “But there is something going on.”

            Isak crossed his arms and tucked them against his body protectively. He glanced around the room, as if expecting an eavesdropper to emerge from the sink or fridge. “Sure. Everyone has their own shit.”

            “What is your ‘shit’ then?”

            “Why do you care?”

            “Because I’m your friend, Isak. And friends care if something’s wrong at home, or if there’s something which needs to be changed.”

            “It’s nothing which can be changed,” said Isak firmly.

            “Most things can be.”

            “Crazy can’t.”

Silence hung loudly in the air around them for a moment, interrupted only by a faint clatter of noise from Eskild’s room. Isak slumped against the back of his chair and fixed his eyes on some unknown point on the ceiling.

“Crazy?” she said. “Are you saying your mom is crazy?”

“Psychotic, delusional, choose your own adventure,” said Isak softly. “She once thought Donald Trump was my uncle. Another time, she thought we owned a dog, kept running down the street yelling for him.”

“And your dad? Is he crazy too?”

“No, he’s not. Just not really there, either.”

A moment. “Is that why you live here? Because of your mother?’

Isak nodded. “She tries her best but it’s not…it’s not enough. Or it’s too much, in the end.” He offered a half-hearted, half-baked smile. “So, Easter with my family will be fun.”

An idea flashed suddenly across her brain, fully formed and more than a little insane. And not in the vein of Isak’s mother.

“Would it help if someone else were there? A friend?”

He looked at her as if she had suddenly removed her hijab. “What?”

She sighed impatiently and leant forward across the table. “Would it help if someone else was there? Someone like…me perhaps?”

“Sana, you’re not even Christian.”

“So I could be curious. I could want to attend an Easter service, and you’re the friend who’s kind enough to allow me to follow.” Now she crossed her arms. “Really, I’m the perfect candidate. No reason for me to be with my own family that day.”

Isak stared dumbly at her. From Eskild’s room, a vibrant, electronic tune leaked through the door and reverberated around the walls. Sana thought she might have recognized it from the previous party Vilde had dragged the group to, one with the requisite number of third years. It sounded like Eskild personified—glitter, sway, and shine smashed into one body. Isak, she knew, favored 90’s hip-hop. She’d often assumed that he’d enjoyed the appropriation of struggle, as many well-to-do suburban children did.

She was only now realizing she’d underestimated him once again.

“You can say no,” she told him finally. “It was just an idea I had.”

Isak gulped and cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, I think—I think that wouldn’t necessarily make anything better. Like I said, you can’t change crazy. It just is, regardless of who else is around.”

“If that’s what you think,” she said.

“It is,” he said, and she noticed how tightly he gripped the corner of his hoodie. “It is. And it’s fine. Not perfect, but it’s better than it has been in the past.”

“Well,” she said, “in that case, I guess I should be going.”

She shoved her chair back with an obnoxious screech and stood slowly, stretching her arms out in front of her. Isak remained motionless, so she began to see herself out by walking casually towards the door.

“Wait!” he called out.

Sana turned to face him with a bemused expression.

“Uh, do you want to stay? Just, you know, to go over some biology stuff. Or tea.” He smiled impishly. “Normally I’d offer some week, but I know that’s not really an option for you.”

And Sana sat back down in her seat. “Sure, Isak. Tea sounds lovely.”

“Okay, great.” He grimaced suddenly. “Thing is, I’m not actually sure we have any.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she told him, and for once, she truly believed that he would.

 

 

_Eva_

 

 

“So, what is this whole meeting about?” said Isak slyly as he slid into the seat across from Eva at the café. “What is so secret that you didn’t want to talk about it at school?” A flash of hesitation crossed his face, and he crinkled his brow. “Wait, did I do something?”

“No, Isak, you didn’t,” she reassured him. “For once,” she added, just to watch him squirm beneath her gaze.

“Ah, well, I have my good days,” he said, tilting his head to the side.

“That’s actually what I’m counting on. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I need your advice, something you’re an expert at.”

“Oh, really?” Isak puffed up his chest and adjusted the snapback which lay flat across his head. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” he said. “I’m a master of many things.”

“I know you are. Especially at getting girls to hook up with you when you have no long term interest.”

Had Isak been drinking coffee, he surely would have spit it out across the room. Fortunately for her, he could only sputter harmlessly in protest while she allowed him to dither his way through excuses and protests at her harsh assessment. Eventually, though, he lost steam.

“What do you need my advice on this for?” he asked, finally halting the rapid stream of near-gibberish pouring from his mouth. “It’s not like you’re trying to hook up with girls.” He frowned intently. “Wait, are you? Are you gay?”

            There was an almost hopeful note in his voice which struck her with more force than she anticipated. After the debacle of their first year, she’d largely missed his slow coming out, even though she’d suspected his sexuality before. But suspecting sexuality and actually witnessing the turmoil of self-realization constituted two entirely different levels of understanding, and of relationships. They’d barely had anything which qualified as the latter after her breakup with Jonas. Still, despite the confidence he now projected, despite the smoking-hot boyfriend glued to his side at school and around town, she realized how very lonely being gay could be. At least he still had Eskild.

            “No, Isak, I’m not. I want to know what you think about this situation I’m in.”

            “Oh, okay.” He leaned back in his chair, tipping it against the floor precariously. “Fire away, I guess,” he said, switching momentarily to English.

            “Chris asked me out on a date.”

            Isak opened his mouth in surprise, closed it, then opened it again to speak. “Chris like the one with the hoverboard? The one who’s always going at it with that Kasper dude?”

            “No, no!” she exclaimed, and she buried her head in her arms. This was just like the first time she’d met Chris—both of them in fact. How hard could it be for people to deal with two people with the same name? “No, Chris like Penetrator Chris.”

            “Oh,” he said, then: “Haven’t you two been hooking up for ages?”

            Isak was apparently determined to make this conversation as difficult as possible. She should have known asking him for advice would lead to something like this, some situation where she had to explain obvious things to him that she would never need to explain to Noora or Vilde. Or Eskild, for that matter. Maybe she had chosen the wrong gay man. But Isak was her friend and she’d already charged into the conversation headlong, so she persisted nonetheless.

            “Yes, we have been. But he says he actually wants to make something more of it.”

            “And do you?”

            “Yes,” she said.

            Isak shrugged. “Then I don’t see why there’s an issue. You want it, he wants it, seems pretty simple.”

            She gripped her coffee mug tightly, relishing in the slight warmth it imparted to her fingertips. She was already grateful for the caffeine it had provided, as she couldn’t imagine facing this whole explanation without it. Maybe she should have just asked Sana. But no, Isak, Isak.

            “Yes, well, Chris doesn’t exactly have the reputation of being faithful in his relationships.”

            Isak mumbled something inaudible.

            “What did you say?”

            He glanced furtively from side to side and then nervously met her gaze. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I said, well, neither do you?”

            She truly hoped her glare conveyed how much she wished to eviscerate him at that moment. She would have settled for something like decapitation too, but evisceration sounded much slower. And much more painful.

            “Okay, okay,” he said. “It’s just, your whole thing with Jonas started when he was still with Ingrid, and it ended when you cheated on him. I know, I know,” he said, holding out his hands in a mollifying gesture, “there were reasons, but still.”

            “This is not what I came here for,” she said flatly.

            “But I guess, that’s kind of the point,” he said. “Not all cheating is the same.”

            She sat back in her chair, silently gesturing for him to continue. Hesitantly, he did so, speaking in a low voice so as not to broadcast their conversation around the café.

            “I mean, look at Even and me. When he first kissed me, he was still technically with Sonja. But their relationship was on the rocks already, and he wanted to be with me, not her. And we’ve been together ever since, ignoring a few hiccups along the way. Technically, cheating. But he essentially decided not to be with Sonja the moment we ran away from that pre-drink.”

            “Chris hasn’t cheated like that. He’s just…he’s just cheated. With me, with Ingrid, with countless other people.” She slumped further down in her chair, feeling the hard wood dig into her spine.

            “But has he changed?”

            “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “He hasn’t exactly been in a committed relationship since Iben.”

            “So you’re kind of the longest relationship he’s had since then.”

            “It’s not really a relationship,” she protested.

            “Fine, fine. Longest hookup or whatever.”

            “As far as I know.” She paused. “I don’t actually know how many other people he hooks up with. It’s always been me at any party we go to together.”

            “So that’s kind of like the Chris version of exclusive,” observed Isak. “Which means that in some way, he’s already committed to you.”

            She frowned, wracking her brain for memories of the last time Chris had hooked up with someone other than her. Though there could well have been someone unknown to her, he’d only kissed her at parties, and according to the rumor mill at Nissen, he hadn’t chased after other girls at parties where she was absent. There were a couple of one time people, but no one consistently, and they’d mostly pursued himWhich was…strange, now that she considered it.

            “You know, you might be right.”

            He scoffed. “No need to sound so surprised.”

            “I am just the right amount of surprised,” she assured him. “I never imagined you to be one for relationship advice.”

            “Yeah, well, that’s what nearly six months with Even will do to me.”

            “God, how did you get so lucky?” she said.

            He shrugged again. “Just luck. It’s not all perfect, though.”

            “I know,” she said softly. “Which is why I guess I came to you in the first place. Because you and Even have been through some real shit, and you’re still going strong. I can’t say that for anyone else among my friends. Except maybe Chris and Kasper, but they’re—

            “A little odd?”

            “Yeah,” she agreed. “Or Vilde and Magnus, I suppose, but Magnus is just so…” she trailed off, searching for the right word.

            “Desperate?” he supplied.

            “Maybe. But you and Even, you seem strong.” She sighed heavily. “With Jonas, it was confusing, but it wasn’t. I knew I wanted him, and I knew I wanted him that way long term.”

            Isak leaned forward across the table and smiled coyly. “It is just a first date. Not like you’re getting married to this guy.”

            She huffed out a jet of air. “Just a first date.”

            “Just a first date,” he repeated for emphasis. “I say, what the hell? See what he can do when you two aren’t sucking each other’s faces off in the corner.”

            She glared at him half-heartedly, but she couldn’t rely deny his statement. Up til this point, most of their relationship had consisted of makeout sessions in darkened rooms lit only by dim lamps and effervescent neon lights.

            “What the hell?” she said. “I guess I’ve got myself a date.”

            He grinned impishly at her, with such unadulterated pleasure that her heart nearly jumped outside her chest. She and Isak had slowly been working their way towards a real friendship again ever since Christmas, but this was the first time she’d seen him react with such genuine joy at something she’d said. It felt good, this warmth between the two of them. It felt like the heat was re-forging the bonds he’d snapped the moment he told Jonas what she’d done.

            He wasn’t quite the Isak from before—the perpetually cheerful, almost naïve Isak who’d constantly been glued to her and Jonas. He’d matured, perhaps, with his mother, with Even, with the passing of time.

            But that impish grin was still the same, and oh how she loved it.

           

 

 

_Jonas_

 

            Normally, on a night like this, Jonas and Isak would have been joined by Magnus and Mahdi at least, but Mahdi had to be at home for his mother’s birthday, and Vilde had texted Magnus with something vaguely suggestive, so he’d skipped out with borderline alarming alacrity. They’d confined themselves to Isak’s room and shut the door, as Eskild or Noora would complain if too much of the aroma of their joints seeped through. The cracked window provided some measure of ventilation, at least.

            “Good stuff you got,” said Isak to Jonas.

            Jonas smiled lazily, already lost in the haze of his high. “You think everything’s good.”

            “Well, it is good this time.”

            “I guess so. We’ve had better for sure.”

            A minute passed in quiet, contemplative silence. Finally, Isak coughed on a hit of his joint and giggled softly to himself. “Even’s going to be so jealous. He’s not supposed to have this stuff, what with his bipolar shit.”

            A pit of uncertainty sank into Jonas’ stomach. While he always respected Isak’s actions when it came to Even, he still worried for his friend and his boyfriend. Though Isak insisted Even’s situation was different from his mother’s and far more manageable, he had born witness to the havoc Mrs. Valtersen had wreaked upon her son.

            “Things still going well with him?” he asked cautiously.

            “Yeah,” said Isak, leaning back against the pillow which rested on the corner of the bed. “We’re going to a cabin together, just the two of us, for a weekend.” He smiled knowingly. “Not like that time with you, me and Eva. And then Elias.”

            “She was so mad at me for bringing you there, you know,” said Jonas. “Reamed me out about how it should have just been the two of us.” He gazed up at the ceiling, at the smudge mark which must have come from a shoe at some point, though it was truly impossible to know at this point. “You did a lot of third-wheeling back then, man. I’m surprised you weren’t sick of it.”

            When Isak failed to respond, he redirected his attention to Isak, expecting to see him lost in a cloud or haze of smoke. Instead, he just found him in the midst of what appeared to be intent contemplation. And not the good sort.

            “What is it?”

            Isak swiveled his neck from side to side. “Remember when you asked me that one time when I knew I was gay? And I said I couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment in time?”

            “Uh sure. I remember.”

            “Well I lied. Because that was the moment I knew for certain.”

            “At the cabin?” Jonas felt his eyebrows scrunch together. “What happened there?”

            “Not what,” said Isak, and he took a deep drag from his joint. “Who.”

            Isak was doing that thing where he wanted Jonas to guess what he was thinking, and as long as they’d known each other, Jonas could still rarely do it well. Isak’s mind functioned on a different level sometimes, lost in thoughts of alternative universes and measures of infinity. Here, he was scrambling against a smooth brick wall, with no handles to latch onto. And then, suddenly, a crevice appeared, and he gripped it and slowly pulled himself up into the realization he should have made a long, long time ago.

            “Me,” he said. “You were in love with me.”

            “Bingo,” said Isak, false cheer coloring his voice. “Although, you know, I told Eva I was in love with her.”

            “Why the fuck did you do that?”

            Isak stared at him. “If I tell you, you’ll be mad at me.”

            “Isak, I’m so high right now. I doubt I could be mad if I wanted to.”

            “But then you won’t be high, and you’ll remember, and then you’ll be mad at me.”

            Jonas sighed heavily and rolled his body over so that he was leaning more towards Isak. “Isak,” he said, “Eva and I broke up more than a year ago. She and that Chris guy have been seeing each other for what, two months now, and I’ve been with several people. Whatever happened there, I’m not going to be mad at you for it.”

            Isak gulped hard, but proceeded nonetheless. “I told her I was in love with her when she asked me my why I told you about her and Chris. I said I was jealous.”

            “But you didn’t tell me about her and Chris.”

            “Someone had to leave those clues, didn’t they? Who did you think it was?”

            “I didn’t know. How the hell did you find out?”

            “She told me,” Isak said simply. “And once she’d told me, I knew…” he breathed in deeply, his joint clutched in his hands far away from his mouth, “I knew if I told you, things would end between you and her. Not that you would get with me, but maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t have to see you in love with someone else every single day.”

            Jonas allowed himself a moment to process Isak’s confession. Then he said, “That was a really shitty thing to do.”

            “I know. You have every right to be mad at me.”

            “Telling me about Eva cheating is one things—I wanted to know about it, and I didn’t want to be lied to by her anymore. But telling me so that we would break up…”

            “Look, I get it, I fucked up, okay?” Isak sank into the corner, arms wrapped tight around his chest. “And I get it if you want space, or time, or anything like that. Eva and I barely talked for a year after I told her and you just found out so if you want to leave now or—

            “Isak,” he said firmly. “Isak, I don’t want to leave, and I don’t need space.”

            Isak seemed genuinely puzzled by that statement, and he resolved to choose his next words carefully so that he properly conveyed what he had to say. Because he needed Isak to understand something, and he needed it to stick.

            “It’s like I said before, Eva and I ended things more than a year ago, and our problems didn’t start or end with you. They started with us, plain and simple. So yeah, what you did was really shitty, but it’s also in the past now, and I’m not going to yell at you about something we’ve both moved on from.

            “And secondly, you’re my best friend, Isak. You have been since middle school, and learning this doesn’t change that. If anything, you telling me now even when you don’t have to, it just shows that you’ve changed. Hell, we both have. Not that I didn’t like the person you were before, but since you’ve come out and found Even, you’ve changed for the better. So I’m not holding this against you.”

            “You’re not?” said Isak, eyes wide and a little glassy.

            Jonas sighed. “No, I’m not. And I think we can agree we both made mistakes that year. So it’s okay to move on.”

            Isak settled back against the wall with a small smile on his face. He took another hit from his joint and seemed to relax, to just lose his bones and crumple against the support offered by the cushions and the hard surface of the wall.

            “Plus, you know, you just confessed that you were in love with me. So I get to hold that over you for the rest of my life.”

            But he would do it with love, so things would be alright.

 

 

 

_Even_

 

 

When Isak didn’t greet him at the gate to school that morning, Even shrugged off his absence as tardiness. Isak wasn’t exactly known for being prompt, even for school, so he proceeded as normal, discussing the latest progression in the saga of Magnus and Vilde. Apparently over the weekend, Vilde had decided she wanted Magnus all to herself and was willing to tie Magnus down to achieve her end. For his part, Magnus had been quite pleased.

He remained unconcerned throughout his first two classes and entered the cafeteria untroubled, but scanning for his erstwhile boyfriend nonetheless. When he spotted Isak’s crew of Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus along with Sana and Vilde all ensconced in the corner together sans Isak, though, he began to wonder.

“Hi Sana,” he said as he wandered towards them.

Sana scooted over to allow him to place his tray next to hers and to sit down on the bench.

“Hello,” she replied with a quick smile, then raised her eyebrows.

“Is Isak getting food still?”

She glanced over to Vilde and then back to him. “Um, no, he’s not. I haven’t seen him today.”

“But you just had biology.”

“Yes, and he wasn’t there.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Do you know where he is?”

By this point, Jonas had turned his attention from Mahdi and Vilde’s conversation in the background to listen carefully to his and Sana’s exchange.

“No, I don’t,” he said, and pulled out his phone. _Where are you?_ He texted to Isak, then addressed Jonas. “Did he mention anything about not being in school today?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” said Jonas, then lowered his voice. “I think his family was doing fine, last I checked.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” said Sana in a measured voice. “He’s already missed some school this year, so he wouldn’t just skip without reason.”

Even nodded and allowed the conversation to flow around him aimlessly. Though Isak didn’t respond by the end of lunch, he still suppressed any burgeoning concern. Isak wasn’t a child. He could handle himself.

After radio silence throughout the rest of the day and two ignored calls, though, Even was seriously worried. Isak always responded in a timely manner, particularly to Even, so he wasted no time in hopping on the bus to Isak’s apartment. On the way, he called Eskild.

“Eskild, it’s Even,” he said quickly once Eskild picked up.

“Hello, _Even_ ,” said Eskild. “Did Isak forget his keys or something?”

“Is he not home?”

“Well, he should be just coming back from school, I would think,” said Eskild, as if this were something obvious. “So, you would know better than me where he is.”

“He wasn’t at school today, and he’s not responding to any of my texts.”

A beat of silence. “I’m at work right now, so I can’t check if he’s home.”

“I’m already on my way.”

“No one else is there to let you in, provided he’s not there.”

“I have a key,” admitted Even, and he could practically hear Eskild’s eyebrow raise through the phone. “I made a copy a while back, just, you know, because.”

“No, it’s fine, move in already, I suppose,” said Eskild, feigning nonchalance. Even detected an undercurrent of worry nonetheless. “At least it’ll come in handy now. Just make sure Isak hasn’t gotten himself into any trouble or broken any of the furniture.”

“Why would he have broken the furniture?”

“I don’t know,” said Eskild airily. “That boy is always finding ways to make life harder.”

“I’m almost here,” said Even. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Would you—“ Eskild’s voice caught slightly on the last word. “Would you tell me if he’s there? Just so I know?”

“I’ll let you know,” said Even, and the bus halted on the street corner with a faint hiss. “I’ll know soon enough.”

Even didn’t even bother knocking; he simply let himself in. The apartment itself was fully dark, so he flipped on the lights in order to see the full kitchen area. Nothing but the gentle whir of the fan greeted him, and he stepped into the kitchen with some trepidation.

“Isak!” he called out. “Isak!”

Still no response. He scanned the full common area before reaching Isak’s room. He pushed the door open just a crack and almost closed it upon seeing how dark and still it was. Except then he noticed the suspicious lump of something beneath the sheets.

He flung the door open. “Isak! Are you sleeping?”

The presumably-Isak-lump groaned at the noise, and Even rolled his eyes. “Isak, you slept through all of school. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Turn it off,” mumbled the lump.

Even chuckled to himself. “Turn what off?”

“The light,” said the voice tightly. “Turn it off.”

Even hadn’t even turned on the light in Isak’s room, but light from the common area still seeped through the open doorway. Isak had closed the blinds in his room to block out all other light, something he found a little odd, but he was undeterred by Isak’s apparent vampiric tendencies.

“You can’t sleep the whole day away,” said Even. “I’m turning on the lights.”

“Even, don’t!” said Isak, and something in his voice halted Even’s hand before he could flick on the switch. The worry which had burrowed itself in his stomach throughout the day reemerged even stronger than before.

“Isak, is everything alright?” said Even quietly, closing the door. Without the outside light, only the barest hints of illumination filtered through the room, and Isak’s body was cast in shadow. “What’s going on?” He sat carefully on the bed and placed his hand cautiously on Isak’s back. Isak responded to the touch by shuddering slightly and rolling over towards Even where he opened his eyes into two tiny slits.

“Just a headache,” Isak muttered.

“Must be one hell of a headache,” said Even.

Isak nodded and closed his eyes again, agreeing wordlessly.

“Is it a migraine?” he asked, running through the symptoms Isak had already displayed, such as sensitivity to light.

“Probably,” said Isak. “Used to get them when I was younger.”

“But you haven’t recently?”

“Started when my mom first went crazy. That doctor at school, she said it was probably just stress-induced.”

This information didn’t comfort Even. “Are you stressed now?”

Isak opened his eyes slightly, gazing at Even. “You know, exams and stuff. Family too.”

“And me,” added Even.

Isak shook his head emphatically then winced. “No, not you.”

“It’s okay if I am. I’m not happy about it, but it would make sense. And you shouldn’t have to lie for me.”

“I’m not lying,” insisted Isak. “You…yes you have your ups and downs, but that’s never your fault. Never.”

“But taking care of me can be stressful. Worrying over me can be stressful.”

“It’s not,” said Isak. “Believe me.”

“Don’t lie to me Isak,” snapped Even, a little more harshly than he intended, and both of them winced collectively, Isak at the noise, Even in regret. “It’s just…you weren’t at school today, and I was worried all day. So if you tell me that you’re not worried about me when I’m down or manic, then that’s insulting, frankly. Because if it happened to you, I would be scared. At least just a little bit.”

“I don’t want you to blame yourself,” whispered Isak.

“I don’t,” said Even. “Believe me, I don’t like it, but I promise you, I won’t blame myself.”

Isak nodded and buried his face into the covers. Even’s heart ached at the sight, and he gently moved his hand from Isak’s back to his head, where he stroked his hair softly, fingering each little curl, relishing in each brush of smooth skin. Isak sighed in contentment and leaned into the touch. “Feels good,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” said Even. “I’ll just stay here then, as long as you need.”

“You don’t need to do that,” said Isak petulantly.

“Yes, I do,” said Even. “You take care of me when I’m sick. This is just me returning the favor.”

And even Isak couldn’t argue with that. Instead, he dragged his hand from underneath the covers and reached for the first piece of Even he could find. When he made contact with Even’s hand, he grasped it tightly and sank even more deeply into his pillow. Even in the dim lighting. Isak was still the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Even when his eyes were closed, he could still see them, twitching just beneath the lids. He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Isak’s jaw.

“I love you,” he said. “God, I love you.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of Isak’s lips. “Lucky me,” he said, then grew more serious. “I love you too,” he said.

And just as Isak had done before, Even lay on the bed next to Isak and watched his boyfriend fall asleep.

 

 

 

_Isak_

 

The evening of his birthday, Isak sat ensconced in the corner of the couch in his apartment with Even. People would be arriving soon to celebrate—Jonas, Magnus, Mahdi, Sana, Eva, Vilde, Noora, Chris—and even Eskild had arranged to leave work early that night to be there for the start. For now, though, it was just him and Even.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out and stared at the message.

_Happy birthday to my son. I have loved you since the moment you were born, and I love you even more today, and my love will only continue to grow with you. Love, mom._

 “Who is it?” said Even, nuzzling Isak’s neck.

“Just my mom.”

Even froze. “Everything alright?”

Isak swallowed hard. “Just telling me she loves me.”

Even’s arms tightened around him. “She loves you, I love you. So many people love you, Isak.” He pressed a kiss to Isak’s hair. “Don’t forget it.”

A knock at the door signaled the first arrival. The first of the people who loved him. “I won’t,” said Isak and turned to kiss Even, full on the lips. “Trust me, I won’t.”

And then he went to the door to let Jonas in.


End file.
